


Alliances in the Exchange

by voleuse



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-14
Updated: 2010-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-13 14:34:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/138421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>The lampshades entailed certain rights</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alliances in the Exchange

**Author's Note:**

> Set before 1.03. Title and summary adapted from _In My Dream You Were Church Regulated_ by Heidi Lynn Staples.

John trudged up the stairs, a faint twinge in his thigh a reminder that he'd left his cane in his therapist's office at the end of their final appointment. The door to the flat was ajar, plaintive plucking sounds echoing out. John rolled his eyes at the theatricality and thumped the door open with his elbow.

"I hope you thought to bring me a curry," Sherlock said, his fingers stilling against the violin. "I'm starving and my mobile isn't charged."

"For someone so logical," John replied, "you often seem to skip over many conversational necessities."

Sherlock rolled his eyes as John passed him. "Would an insincere _please_ suffice?" He set his violin down and pushed out of his chair with a flourish. "I've things to consider, John, and little time to spend on social inanities."

"Courtesy?" John asked. He set a bottle of milk on the shelf, then a jar of pickles next to some ungodly microbiology experiment in the refrigerator. "Basic human interaction can't be that far beyond you."

Sherlock trailed after him. "Don't tell me you've been longing to exchange platitudes about the weather." He settled his hip against the table, so he only partially loomed over John in the lamplight. "You've never struck me as that mundane."

"Haven't I?" John mused. He set a paper bag on the table. "Shocking." He waved a hand over the bag. "Have at it, then."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows, then twisted to peer into the bag. "Curry." He looked at John, his smile bright.

"Don't act surprised," John said. "You probably realized it ten minutes before I arrived."

"Twenty, actually," Sherlock replied. "But it's kind of you, regardless." He grasped John's elbow, his fingers squeezing for a mere moment.

John cleared his throat. "Yes, well." He tucked his hands in his pockets, and Sherlock's hand stuttered down his forearm before he stepped away. "You've paid for all of it, you know."

Sherlock twitched his shoulder, as if the mention of money didn't signify. "Is there enough for two, or am I to dine alone?"

"Exactly how starved are you?" John asked. Sherlock rolled his eyes again, and John smiled. "I'll just hang up my coat, then." He strode off. "I'll turn on the telly."

"I'd be lost without you, John!" Sherlock called after him.

"Funny," John said, and tossed his coat on the sofa.


End file.
